Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Noa wasweak as she sat in the wooden chair, the garrote tight around her throat. She didn’t know how long Auguste and the twins had had her in the underground cave, but the last of her energy was draining from her.

As though they were on borrowed time, Auguste and the twins had moved Noa from one piece of equipment to the next, barely any reprieve in between their cruel tortures.

They were going to kill her. She knew that. But she couldn’t seem to find any scrap of regret within her for how she’d ended up back in their clutches. Beth would have gotten back to the manor with the ledger by now. The Fallen and the Coven would have the information on the Shunned.

The only thing that made Noa’s heart shatter into pieces was picturing Diel’s face when he realized what she had done. Picturing her sisters, Dinah when Beth told her that Auguste and his men had her as their captive once again.

“Repent,” Auguste said, ripping her from her thoughts. She felt him hovering at her back. His legs pressed against her hands, which were tied behind the large wooden chair he had fastened her to. She could barely breathe with the garrote so tight around her throat and a sharp spike pressing against the base of her skull.

Noa tried to swallow, but the garrote made it almost impossible. For a second, she thought of Diel. Of how he must have felt wearing chains in Purgatory. And then in the years afterward, where he was trapped behind the collar that would curb the man he was always destined to be.

“Repent, witch!” Auguste hissed.

Noa clenched her teeth but managed to spit out, “Never.” Auguste didn’t care if she repented. She had been under this man’s harsh hand for most of her childhood. He didn’t care about her salvation. He just wanted to bring her pain, a sadist in priest’s clothing. Auguste and the twin fuckers who’d killed her grandmother were going to kill Noa too.

It was simply a matter of time.

And as she sat there, something became crystal clear within her—Noa would never renounce who she was ever again. She was the granddaughter of a Wiccan priestess. She came from a long line of persecuted witches, and she would never give in to the men who had hunted them down like dogs. She would die who she truly was.

A witch.

A heretic.

But an innocent woman.

“The devil has his hands firmly on your soul,” one of the twins said, slicing his hand across her cheek. It burned, setting her skin alight. But Noa was growing numb. Her fight to stay conscious was waning. Her fight to stay alive was dimming with every second under their command.

Auguste turned the lever to the garrote, tightening the leather collar around Noa’s throat. She tried to keep still, but as her airway was crushed, her legs tried to thrash and she instinctively fought the restraints around her hands.

The creaks of the collar and ties on her hands were a thunderclap in the dank room. Then Auguste was before her, victory in his stare. “I win,” he said. Noa’s face reddened as she fought for air. Her vision became blotchy, black spots floating around her like an aura. This was it. This was the moment she died.

“What you and your heretic sisters could never understand is that we always win in the end. It has been prophesized. Heretics like you will burn in hell for all eternity. This …” he said, gesturing to the garrote, to the stake they had already burned her on, only cutting off the flames when the skin on her legs and stomach had begun to melt, and to the stream they had plunged her into several times until she had passed out, only for them to revive her and do it all over again. Noa was exhausted. Yet something inside of her kept fighting. Something in her spirit kept her holding on. “This is nothing to what awaits you in the eternal inferno.” Auguste brought his face closer to hers. “Witch.”

It took Noa all her remaining strength, but she stared him dead in the eyes and smiled, widely. She watched with joy in her heart as the smile seemed to hit him with as much force as a bullet to the chest. Auguste slowly lifted his chin, wickedness washing over his rigid stance.

Straightening to his full height, he looked over her shoulder at one of the twins. “Snap her fucking neck.”

Noa braced for her imminent death. She closed her eyes, ready for whatever came next. But suddenly, the sound of machine guns firing ricocheted off the cave walls around them.

Noa snapped her eyes open. Auguste stared at the door that led to the main body of the church. “Guard the door,” he said to the twins. She heard them move, and something ignited in her chest.

Wonder.

Excitement.

Hope.

They were coming for her. Diel and her sisters, the Fallen—Noa knew it was them. They were coming to save her. She felt it in the marrow in her bones.

Auguste turned and noticed the smile remaining on her bloodied and split-skinned face. “You won’t be smiling for long, witch.”

“They … are … here,” Noa whispered, voice almost ruined. “For me …”

Auguste’s brown eyes flamed with disgust, with pure unadulterated hatred. He reached for the back of the garrote. Noa stilled, closing her eyes, waiting for her neck to snap, waiting for the end to arrive. But then …

“Fuck!”

Noa opened her eyes, chest aching from tension. She could feel Auguste trying to turn the lever of the garrote tighter, to crush the bones in her neck. But nothing happened; the lever seemed to be stuck. It was stuck…

Auguste was breathing fast. Then, on a final furious curse, he released her from the garrote and dragged her numbed, weak body across the room to the iron maiden. Noa tried to fight, tried to push Auguste away from the fucked-up device staring her in the face, but her strength was too depleted. He opened the door to the iron maiden to reveal the mass of metal spikes.

Auguste pushed Noa in. She cried out in agony as the spikes instantly pierced holes all over her body. “We’ll meet again, witch,” he said, repeatedly checking over his shoulder. “Unless you die in here first, which, God willing, you will. You can die while you watch them search for you.”

With that, he slammed the door to the iron maiden shut. Noa screamed through her bruised throat as the spikes pierced the flesh on the front of her body. She tried to keep her breathing steady, keep herself totally still so the spikes wouldn’t run her through completely. But she was weak, and her legs threatened to buckle any second.

An explosion rattled the foundations of the cave. Noa stared through the slit of the iron maiden’s face and watched with grainy vision as Auguste fled, following the narrow path of the stream. “No,” she tried to protest, not wanting him to get away again. Then she saw the twins by the door. They opened it and rushed out, readying to kill whoever came down the stairs.

Dinah … Naomi, Jo, Candace, Beth … Diel … Diel …

Noa cried out in frustration as she fought to remain unmoving. She knew it was only a matter of time before she could no longer keep upright. And a part of her cried at the thought of her sisters, Diel, finding her in the iron maiden, too late.

She heard a commotion up ahead as another explosion sounded above ground. Noa began to drift in and out of consciousness. She heard guns and fighting, but she’d lost sight of any sign of the twins and where they might now be.

Then something seemed to be happening in the cave. She heard fighting close by but couldn’t see clearly enough to make out who and what. She tried to breathe steadily. She saw a flash of movement, but her vision was too blurred.

“Noa!” The frantic call of her name was a shot of caffeine to her exhausted body. She jerked, but then screamed in pain as the spikes dug into her further, the agony unbearable. “NOA!” the voice called louder, and tears filled Noa’s eyes when she realized who that voice belonged to.

“Diel!” she tried to shout out, but her voice was nonexistent. She couldn’t tap on any part of the iron maiden as a signal, as she couldn’t move or be impaled—as was its purpose.

“Noa!” Diel screamed again. She could hear him tearing apart the room, desperation in every frantic footstep. When he flashed before her, Noa whimpered, fearing he wouldn’t find her in time. But then Diel froze, and he turned to the iron maiden, his gaze immediately finding hers through the tiny slit in its face.

He raced toward her and tried to wrench the door open. “The lock. The fucking lock!” he spat, then disappeared from Noa’s limited view. She felt the door move again and heard a loud crunch echo around the cave. He was trying to break it open. Her jaw clenched as Diel’s effort made the spikes dig further into her flesh. But she held her legs firm.

Diel was here.

Diel was actually here.

Noa bit her lip to quell a cry of pain as the door pushed into her stomach and breasts. But then she heard the lock break, and Diel slowly opened the door. She fought to open her swollen eyes. “Noa,” Diel breathed, devastation clear in his voice. His eyes roved down her broken and bloodied body, pierced and bruised over every single inch.

Noa smiled at the sight of him. Always so beautiful, especially post kill and drenched in Brethren blood. Mustering all the energy she could, she leaned on the elation she felt at seeing his beautiful face. “Hello, pretty monster.”

But exhaustion spilled from her along with blood, and her legs buckled. Diel rushed forward to take her in his arms before she hit the ground. The minute he held her, Noa felt a flicker of warmth in her broken body. “Baby,” Diel whispered, just as brokenly, and pushed the matted hair back from her face. “Baby,” he said again, a tincture of panic and relief in his raspy tone.

He laid her down on the floor, hovering above her, then he was wrenched to his feet. Noa watched, heart in her throat, as Diel was slammed against the cave wall. She wiped her eyes, straining to see what was happening, and saw the familiar sight of black leather pants and shirt and the Coven’s favored large leather hood. Her heart thrummed in recognition.

But then Diel launched himself at whoever was holding him, the two of them falling into attacking stances. “Pris …” Noa tried to clear her throat to speak louder. “Priscilla.” Noa wanted to cry in happiness when the hooded head turned to face her, and a pair of familiar obsidian eyes locked onto hers. But Diel charged at Priscilla and wrapped his hand around her sister’s throat. Priscilla did the same to him, the pair of them circling, each primed to tear the other apart.

Noa crawled forward, and Diel’s eyes moved from Noa’s sister to land on her. It was all the distraction Priscilla needed. She swiped Diel’s legs from underneath him and pinned him to the floor. She straddled his chest with her strong thighs and placed her knife at his throat.

“No,” Noa rasped, and her hushed protest stopped Priscilla from striking her blade straight into Diel’s heart. “No!” Noa said again. Diel froze at Noa’s anguish … as did Priscilla.

Noa crawled closer to Diel, gritting her teeth at the pain such minute movements caused. She wrapped her shaking hand in his. His eyes softened at the gesture. But he was confused; she could tell that by his furrowed brow. But Noa was focused on their entwined hands. She never thought she’d feel this again. She never thought she would see him again. Noa’s chest flooded with heat.

“This is him?” Priscilla nudged her head at Diel.

Noa squeezed Diel’s hand as tightly as she could. She wasn’t sure she could ever let go again. “Yes,” she whispered. “This is Diel.” Noa had told Priscilla all about the Fallen and Diel in her voicemails. About their cause … about how she had fallen so completely in love with this man and his monster.

Priscilla pushed her knife harder against Diel’s throat. Diel turned his head to look at Noa’s wayward sister without a hint of fear in his stare. A sliver of blood burst from the thin cut Priscilla’s knife had made. Noa’s heart kicked into a sprint. She loved her sister, but Priscilla was disturbed. She was unpredictable and would kill without feeling or remorse.

“You fuck with her or let her down,” Priscilla said tightly to Diel, pressing her blade down even harder on his scarred skin, “and I’ll gut you, slowly, then wear your skin as a fucking dress.” Priscilla smiled and laughed her demented laugh, then rolled off Diel in the direction of Noa. Priscilla wrapped her hand around the back of Noa’s head and kissed her forehead.

Then she jumped to her feet and went to run in the direction Auguste had gone, chasing his shadow downstream. “Wait!” Noa managed to say. She rubbed her throat. Priscilla stopped and turned. “Stay,” Noa begged. Diel moved closer to Noa and wrapped her tightly in his arms, as if reassuring himself that she was really alive.

Priscilla studied them with her head tilted to the side, as though she couldn’t understand why anyone would do that, why anyone would show affection to another … why anyone would fall in love. “We’ve found family,” Noa said. “People like us … like you.” She coughed at the strain of talking. “We are going to take the Brethren down. Come back to us. Your family … Join us. We can all do this together.”

Priscilla was quiet, eyes narrowed, then she said, “You take them out from the outside.” Noa could see Priscilla’s cold smile underneath her face covering by the crinkling at the sides of her eyes. “I’ll see these fuckers implode from the inside.” Priscilla nodded to the door. “I’ve left you a gift. In memory of your grandmother.”

Noa opened her mouth to speak again, to ask her what she meant, to fucking beg Priscilla to stay, but Priscilla was gone before she could, chasing Auguste’s tracks down the mouth of the cave. Noa’s heart was a heavily beating drum as Priscilla disappeared like the wraith she had become, off on her own journey.

Diel got to his feet and moved to the door to assess whatever “gift” Priscilla had left. He held his knife high and wrenched it open. Noa waited, trying to see what was on the other side. Diel bent down and dragged the twin priests inside.

Noa’s pulse thrummed in excitement. The twins were incapacitated, their Achilles’ heels and hamstrings severed. They couldn’t walk, so Diel dragged them, bleeding and screaming, closer to Noa.

He dropped them at Noa’s feet like a sacrificial offering, their heads slamming to the hard rock beneath them. And as though her exhaustion had never existed, Noa took the knife Diel held out for her and pulled herself to her knees. She swayed, but she held on to the hatred she felt toward these two to fuel her every move.

Making sure she held the gaze of both of them, Noa held Diel’s knife high. Her grandmother’s face smiled in approval in her mind. In two quick strikes, Noa slammed the knife down, a single deep stab in each of the priests’ Brethren-sullied hearts. Retribution for taking her grandmother from her. For raping her and her sisters as kids. For everything they stood for. And for assisting Auguste in his vicious witch trials on innocent children.

As the knife sank into their flesh, Noa felt reborn, as if the metal of her blade was absorbing their lifeblood. She felt a cavernous part of her soul patch over, a pit in her heart fill with justice and revenge. Noa watched silently as the twins fought for breath, mouths moving silently as they tried to cling to life, as blood clawed up their throats and ran down their chins.

Diel came behind her, wrapping Noa in his arms as he too watched them die. As the priests’ eyes glazed over and their chests stopped moving, Noa sank back against Diel, utterly replete.

She had barely touched his chest when Diel whirled her around and spread her across his legs. His hands were on her cheeks. She was bleeding, ruined and exhausted, but as she looked at Diel, she smiled. Her split lips trembled and tears flooded her eyes, but as she met his bright blue gaze, a hint of the monster she loved too peeking through, making himself known, Noa felt at home.

“Noa …” Diel pressed his mouth against hers. No words needed to be shared. He had come for her. Noa had survived.

And she was going home.

She kissed him back, savoring his taste, the feel of his lips against hers, even the spilled blood being shared between them. When they broke apart, Noa sank against him, completely vulnerable in his arms, but knowing he would never hurt her. Quite the opposite—he would cherish her. Diel held her close, being careful of her wounds.

The door behind them opened, and a frantic “Noa!” echoed around the cave. The relief at hearing Dinah’s voice was a balm to Noa’s frayed soul. Dinah wrapped herself around Noa from behind, then quickly jerked back. Noa turned her head and saw Dinah staring down at Noa’s shredded body. One by one, her sisters appeared, followed by the Fallen.

Naomi rushed to Noa, her careful healer’s fingers assessing Noa’s wounds. “Home,” Naomi mouthed, and all Noa could do was nod once. “I’ll fix you.”

“Auguste?” Sela asked, his eyes searching for signs of his brother.

Noa shook her head, but Diel said, “Got away.” Sela’s jaw tightened and he turned his head away, every part of him emanating pure rage.

Noa looked at Dinah. “Priscilla …”

Dinah’s eyes widened, and she searched the cave just as Sela had done. “Here? Where?” Then she stilled, and understanding flashed across her expression. “The explosions again.” Her lips kicked up in a knowing smirk, and she nodded, affection for Priscilla and her strange ways shining through.

“She’s staying away for now.” Noa winced; her body ached from even trying to speak. The adrenaline she had found at killing the twins was fading and the true extent of her injuries beginning to show. “Wants to take them down from the inside.”

Gabriel bent down beside Noa. “We need to leave,” he said gently. His blue eyes landed on the dead twin priests. Noa saw a flicker of sadness show in his sagged shoulders. But she was beginning to learn that it wasn’t in sympathy for the men who deserved their deaths, but for any life being lost.

“We need to make sure you’re okay,” Gabriel said, focusing back on Noa. He looked at the iron maiden. Noa’s still-wet blood decorated the sharp spikes that, only minutes later, would have finally killed her. “We all need to get home to safety. More Brethren will be coming soon, we can bank on that. The Shadows are on clean-up duty. But we can’t hang around here.”

Diel shifted beneath Noa, and he carefully got to his feet, Noa secure in his arms. She leaned her head against his broad chest; his hard muscles felt like a feather pillow underneath her.

As Diel carried her to the stairs, the potent scent of gasoline filled her nose. She opened her eyes to see Uriel pouring gas from a canister all over the medieval inquisition devices and finally over the slain priests. As they backed toward the door, Bara aimed his flame thrower at the basement, lighting it up. He shut the door, and Uriel poured gas on the stairs and the main body of the church behind them as they went.

The next thing Noa knew, they were crossing the field. The cold wind stung her hundreds of wounds. She clung to Diel, trying her best to stave off the pain. She caught the spread of stars up above and cherished being above ground. But just as beautiful as the stars were the sapphire eyes that kept dropping down to her to make sure she was okay.

So Noa held on to that sight. She couldn’t imagine anything more breathtaking.

They reached the van, Noa tucked into the safety of Diel’s chest. The van began to move. The blaze of the burning church was the only light around them. In the silence, not caring who was listening, Noa lifted her chin, caught Diel’s eyes and said, “You came for me.”

Diel’s head twitched, eyes blinking fast. He ran his hand down her cheek and, emotion thick in his voice, said, “To hell.” Noa’s skin bumped at his gruffly spoken words. Her heart swelled and her soul leaned even deeper into his. “I’d follow you straight into hell.”

“You did,” Noa said, breathing easier now she was in his hold. She lay back into his chest and closed her swollen eyes. Anywhere with Father Auguste was hell. But Diel, his brothers, and Noa’s sisters had come for her, clamoring past priest-robed demons and the pits of the inferno itself to find her.

Her family.

Her safety.

Home.